


A Lesson In Science

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Implied Slash, M/M, jack flirts with everyone, some man kissing, watson is uncomfortable again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in Cardiff, Sherlock and Watson have a run in with a certain Captain at a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson In Science

Sherlock did not often spend much time outside of London, and when he did spend time out of London he didn't plan on doing so in Cardiff.

However, the Cardiff police knew a bit about the world's only consulting detective and, much as they hated to admit needing help from London, a disappearance forced them to call upon Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock solved the case within two hours of arriving in Cardiff and, after getting everything sorted with the police, decided that he and Watson ought to go get something to eat before spending the night in a hotel. There was no point in going back to London only to get there in the middle of the night, and Sherlock was of the opinion that they ought to get back early the next day.

"What can I get for you tonight?" the barmaid asked.

"Beer," Watson said, at the same time Sherlock said, "Water."

The girl gave them both a strange look before leaving to get their drinks.

"You do know it's strange not to order something other than water at a bar, right?" Watson asked.

"You do realize I don't care about which drinks are socially acceptable to order in a bar, right?"

"Fair enough." The girl delivered their drinks, and Watson took a sip of his. "But you could make the effort to seem less...strange to people. Connect with them a bit, you know?"

"In a bar?" Sherlock said.

"No," Watson sounded slightly impatient. "I mean, earlier today, with the disappearance. You came off to the girl's family as a bit...disinterested, and they were upset."

"My job is not to play therapist," Sherlock reminded him. "I just work with the facts. I think you've realized that by now, or have I taught you nothing of observation?"

Watson sighed. "I did realize. I just think you need a bit of...I don't know...social-ness, or whatever it's called."

"That's what you're here for," Sherlock said.

"Can be of service?" said a voice to Sherlock's right, before Watson could respond.

Sherlock turned around and found himself staring at a man in a large overcoat, grinning at him.

"With what? Surely not with drinks—I've already ordered," Sherlock said.

"I know." The man's grin widened as he took in Sherlock's appearance. "Captain Jack Harkness, but you can call me Jack. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm not sure I can say the same," Sherlock muttered. He frowned. "There is one thing that interests me, however. The 'Captain' part of your name is intriguing. I'm thinking captain of a boat, and being in Cardiff that is extremely likely given that this is a port town, but your mode of dress says 'military', and...you seem to be staring at me in a way that I find just the slightest bit unnerving. Do you know me?"

"Heard all about you," Jack said. " Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, works in London, came to Cardiff for one case and solved in two hours what the police haven't been able to solve in two weeks. You have an assistant named John Watson." He waved at Watson, who waved back and glanced at his companion. At Sherlock's suspicious expression Jack added, "My friend Gwen Cooper told me. She knows people."

"So you're not the police, then."

"No, but I can appreciate a bit of good detective work. Excellent detective work, actually. You're fascinating. There are very few people with your intelligence and believe me, I've met them, and you're really...impressive."

"I'm assuming I should be pleased to be considered above average," Sherlock said. Then, after a pause, he added, "You've met extremely intelligent people...where? Not in the military—no offense, given that my good friend Watson over here," he gestured to Watson, who was watching the conversation with some amusement, "was a military doctor, but still. The most intelligent people would never waste their time shooting guns."

"Or making strategy?" Jack asked.

"There are infinitely more interesting and complex things to do with knowledge than make fighting strategy. There's no discovery, no mystery. Just careful planning."

"I see. I should have realized you like new discoveries." Jack laughed. "You're right, though, the smartest people I've met have never been in the military. But I have met people...I have this friend, he's a doctor, and he has hundreds of years worth more intelligence than anyone else. I'd like to see the two of you meet," here, Jack smirked. "It would be quite...amusing. You could solve mysteries together."

"Your friend is a consulting detective?" Sherlock asked. "You said he was a doctor."

"He's a doctor of many things," Jack said, dismissively waving his hand. "He's sort of like a consulting detective, but that's not his only occupation."

"You talk so much of your friend," Sherlock said, "but tell me, what is your occupation?"

"You can't tell?" Jack asked, looking a bit surprised.

"I might have guessed the military, but you never got offended by my comments on their lack of intellectuals. You agreed with me. Something tells me that this friend of yours has helped you in some way...I want to say you solve mysteries, but we've already established that you're not with the police. You have no sort of uniform-like clothing that would indicate a government worker, besides the jacket but I've already established that to be more military, nor do you seem like the type to work in an office, given that you have two guns hidden away—one in your trousers and the other strapped to your ankle."

"One gun," Jack corrected.

"Two," Sherlock said.

"Just the one, on my ankle. I'm just really enjoying our conversation."

Watson choked on his beer. Sherlock ignored him.

"What is it that you do?"

"Is that you asking? Well..." Jack leaned closer. "Perhaps if you spend some time with me...alone...we can discuss what, exactly, it is that I do."

"I prefer not to be alone with anyone who is exceedingly enjoying themselves in my presence."

"Now that's no fun," Jack said. "As it happens, I've got a bit of a mystery that needs solving, if you're available tonight."

"I don't work for free," Sherlock told him.

"You don't," Watson said, clearly disbelieving.

This only seemed to encourage Jack. "I think you'd be satisfied with the payment."

"What kind of detective work are we talking about?" Watson asked.

"Oh, just something fun," Jack said.

"I don't believe I can take you up on the offer," Sherlock told him. "I am traveling with Watson, after all, and I would hate to subject to more work or, alternatively and more likely, leave him to his own devices in this place the Welsh like to call a city. He would get terribly bored, and his intelligence might suffer as a result, and I really can not have that in someone who helps me in my line of work. I'm afraid I simply will have to decline. And now, Watson, we must go. I want to get an early start tomorrow."

Jack looked put out by this lengthy refusal. Sherlock took no notice, and as he and Watson exited the building Watson began to laugh.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Do you know what he was trying to ask you?"

"He wanted me to do a job that was in all likelihood exceedingly mundane and an insult to my intelligence," Sherlock said. "Furthermore, he could not pay me in certain terms, and he seems to be a...fan...of my work." He said the word 'fan' like a librarian might say 'noise'.

Watson smirked. "God, you are hopeless with people. Sherlock...he was flirting with you!"

"Oh."

"He seemed to find you very attractive. I'd think you would have noticed."

"I only notice the important things," Sherlock said. "The sexual desires of some man in a bar is not one of them."

By the time Sherlock and Watson got to the hotel they intended to spend the night in, it was dark. Watson only wanted to sleep, and Sherlock had had his day's fill of social interaction.

The hopes of both were shattered when they got to their door and found a certain Captain leaning against it.

"It seems you actually have some intelligence, after all, if you were able to look up what room and hotel we're staying at without asking me," Sherlock said, trying to hide the surprise on his face. "How, exactly, did you manage that?"

"I know you're impressed," Jack said, ignoring a brief laugh from Holmes, "but let's not get carried away. I'm not here to stay. I'm just here to show you something you might find useful, judging from your shoddy performance in the bar today."

"My shoddy performance?"

"Terribly shoddy," Jack confirmed. "I've never seen worse. I hope that's not how you're treating him," he pointedly looked at Watson, "because, frankly, if I were him I'd be going nuts just about now."

"What are you talking about?" Watson asked, finding that for once he and Sherlock were the same level of confused, which never happened.

Jack walked over and put his arm around Watson's shoulders, drawing him closer. Watson's brain worked overtime to process what was happening, but his mind wasn't going nearly as fast as Sherlock's, who asked, "What are you doing?"

"Just a little demonstration," Jack said. Then to Watson, he added, "He probably doesn't tell you how much he appreciates you, and you've probably never told him how much you admire the way he can solve a mystery from a few seemingly random clues. And you two live together! The tension must be terrible."

"What tension?" Watson asked. He looked to Sherlock for help, but Sherlock seemed content to watch, concentrating on Jack rather than his friend with a curious expression.

"This tension." Jack began rubbing Watson's shoulder, while he murmured in his ear, "You've probably felt it before, the urge, the wanting. Just being completely intoxicated by another person so much that you can barely stand it, until it builds up..."

Watson meant to ask "What the hell are you talking about?" but he couldn't, because Jack chose that moment to turn him around and kiss him.

The kiss...Watson knew he was straight, but at the same time he didn't bring himself away the moment their lips touched, perhaps because Jack really had managed to lull him into a sense of calm, perhaps because of all that tension that he suddenly seemed to feel. He felt an almost curious desire to see where this would go next, and part of his mind commented on Jack's kissing, and seemed to think it was actually quite good for a guy.

Then the other part of Watson's mind that would have jumped back in shock switched back to life, and just as Watson began to think of pushing Jack away the other man broke the kiss and looked down at Watson, satisfied.

"Wh—what?" Watson managed.

Jack spun around to face Sherlock, whose face remained impassive. "That, my friend," he announced, "is the science of seduction. Remember it well." Then he walked away, disappearing down the hall.

Watson found himself facing Sherlock. His cheeks burned. "I have no idea...I didn't know...he..."

Sherlock smirked. "I know. You're straight." He strode over to the door and unlocked it.

"I am," Watson insisted as he walked inside the room.

"That kiss lasted a full seven seconds and Harkness pulled away first, and judging from the expression on your face...I'd say he's quite good at what he does."

Watson stared at him. "You don't think—?"

"Not at all."

"I have a girlfriend."

"Quite."

"There is no tension," Watson added. "Not here, not back in London. I don't know what he was talking about."

"I'm quite aware." A pause. "Still, the science of seduction." Sherlock laughed. "Tension."

Watson's eyes widened. "There is no tension!"

"I am very aware of the tension."

"Lack of tension!"

"Yes," Sherlock seemed to consider something. "That too..."

"I—never mind. I need to just...not deal with this now." Muttering to himself, Watson went into the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving behind a very amused Sherlock.


End file.
